


Memories Of Another Life

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Cursed Storybrooke, F/M, Golden Lace, NSFW, PWP, Rumbelle - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: On opposite sides of town, Lacey and Gold share the same sensual dream, one that feels far more like a memory. Golden Lace/Cursed Rumbelle.For the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Having a wet dream and calling the other’s name during it.





	Memories Of Another Life

Lacey wanders through the castle, wondering why it seems so familiar when she knows she’s never been here before. There are trinkets everywhere, glass-fronted cabinets piled high with nick-nacks. It reminds her a little of Mr Gold’s shop, what she’s seen of it through the windows. She’s never been inside. She knows she can’t afford anything in there and he’d probably charge her ground rent just to browse.

Everyone in town knows his reputation and Lacey is no different, but at the same time, she’s always had a morbid interest in him, watching him from afar and trying to work out what’s going on in that enigmatic head of his. Perhaps she’s the only one in the town who’s not actively scared of him. Oh, he annoys her just as he annoys everyone else in the town, but she feels no fear of his devilish smile and calm, composed, sometimes unnerving stillness.

He’s a man who doesn’t move unless he has to, with a certain economy of energy that presents itself as self-confidence. It makes people uneasy when they see him standing so motionless. People are by nature active and mobile. They talk with their hands, they have all kinds of nervous tics and they’re almost constantly fidgeting.

Lacey’s caught herself doing it before when she’s scared, and she’s trying to train herself not to show fear. She can’t have anyone discovering her weaknesses. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

Lacey furrows her brow. It’s her own voice saying it in her mind, but where on earth did that sentiment come from? Maybe she’s more like Mr Gold than she wants to admit. Never let them see you bleed.

She looks around at her fantastical surroundings once again. It all seems so familiar, but she has no idea how she got here. The hall she’s found herself in is large, with heavy curtains over the windows so that she can’t tell if it’s daylight outside or not. Something tells her that these curtains are always closed, no matter the time of day or the season.

“Belle?”

The voice is again familiar but there’s something not quite right about it. She turns.

“No. I’m Lacey.”

Although the name Belle fits, she can’t deny it. There’s no leisure to ponder this though, as she sees who it was to speak.

It’s Mr Gold, standing as still and enigmatic in the corner of the room like he always does, leaning on his cane with both hands. Not moving. For the briefest of moments, however, he looks different. His greying hair is crimped and unkempt, and his skin is a greeny-grey colour, almost shimmering. His usual designer suit has been replaced with tight leather and silk, and Lacey can’t say that she doesn’t appreciate the change. Far from being repulsive, his appearance draws her in and makes her take a step towards him, wanting to learn more as she always does whenever Gold is in the vicinity.

Then she blinks, and he’s back to his usual appearance.

“Lacey,” he says, and she wonders why he called her Belle. The rumour around the town is that he was married once, and she wonders if it was his wife’s name. She wonders what happened to her. Some of the snider souls think she’s buried under the floorboards in the salmon pink mansion that Gold calls home. Lacey is too cynical and practically-minded to believe them. Some people just want to think the worst of others no matter what and nothing will change their minds.

Everything is moving slowly, as if in a dream, but Lacey can’t really bring herself to care about anything other than Gold standing in front of her. She doesn’t feel scared. In fact, quite the opposite. She feels excited, the thrill of the forbidden racing through her veins. Has she always been this attracted to this man, or is this a new thing? She doesn’t really care. All she knows is that there’s a flame in the pit of her stomach that is being slowly fanned into life.

“It’s been a while since we were this close,” Gold says. She’s close enough to touch him, although she has no memory of actually closing the distance between them.

Gold licks his lips, and Lacey wants to kiss him, so she does, grabbing his jacket lapels and pulling him in. It’s a fierce, plundering kiss; Lacey goes after what she wants and takes it without hesitation, just as Gold does. He returns her passion with equal fire, one hand coming up to hold the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. His tongue is hard and insistent and she opens for him readily. Why haven’t they done this before?

Although, she thinks, maybe they have. Or maybe this constant familiarity is just déjà vu, giving her a false sense of memory. Maybe it happened in a dream once. At last she pulls away. Was it a minute or an hour, or was it an eternity? She just wants more, and more, as much as he’s willing to give her.

“More?” Gold suggests, and she nods eagerly. Their surroundings have changed without them moving. The grand hall with all its display cases has vanished from around them, replaced with a smaller but no less opulently decorated bedroom. Again, Lacey gets the feeling that she’s been here before, that she’s had sex in that same bed with its shimmering silk covers before.

“You do look lovely tonight,” Gold says, and Lacey looks down to see what she’s wearing. And she blinks, because she’s certain she’s never owned a gold satin ball gown. As soon as she notices it, it’s turned into her favourite little black mini-dress. Much better.

Gold kisses her again, and Lacey closes her eyes. She’s unwilling to surrender into it completely, but she feels safe enough. Something tells her that she can trust Gold. He’ll take care of her properly, unlike some of the other lacklustre lovers that she’s had in recent months. He’s a gentleman, and the lady comes first. Lacey actually feels like a lady with him, which is a far cry from normal. She likes it, as strange as it makes her feel.

Gold walks her back towards the bed, discarding the cane somewhere and pushing her back down onto the covers. That won’t do. Lacey likes to be in control, and she turns them over, straddling Gold and grinding down against his crotch. He’s certainly interested; she can feel him twitching beneath her, but he’s wearing far too many clothes. If he’s feeling anywhere near as hot as she is, then he must be burning up inside that three-piece suit, as delectable as it looks on him. She attacks his tie and his waistcoat buttons, fervently peeling his layers off him until she can get a glimpse of his slim chest. He hisses as she scrapes her nails over his skin and catches his nipples.

“Oh Lacey,” he groans. “You’re killing me here, sweetheart. Stop teasing.”

So Lacey takes pity on him, and pulls her dress up over her head, pressing her breasts forward, her bright red bra pushing them together into impressive cleavage. Gold’s hands are on her then, all over her, and she throws her head back, revelling in the feel of his fingers as they sweep down her back, grab her butt and squeeze, then slip down between her legs and push the gusset of her thong aside to touch her folds, already slippery. There are no niceties, no soft kissing and tender foreplay, although Lacey seems to remember that there was at some point in the past. She remembers gentle love-making in this big bed, with a man whose fingers were greeny-grey and shone gold in the candlelight.

She shakes the thought away and it vanishes from her head as quickly as it arrived in there. No more intrusive thoughts come. Lacey focuses on Gold’s long and clever fingers touching her in just the right way. He knows all the places to make her melt; they must have done this before, although Lacey can’t quite remember it properly.

A finger slides inside her as another circles her clit, and Lacey grinds her hips, braced against his chest, knowing that her knees might give out at any moment. She’s almost there, so close to completion, and her orgasm is sudden, bright, and intense.

“Gold!”

Lacey wakes with a start, did she scream that out loud? She listens for a moment, but her father doesn’t seem to have been disturbed. Then again, this is the man who can sleep through a hurricane. She takes stock of the situation. She’s naked, the ratty old t-shirt that she put on to sleep in is discarded on the floor, and one hand is busy between her thighs, slippery wet on her fingers. She wipes it on the sheets and runs it through her hair, letting out a long breath and letting her heart stop pounding. It was just a dream. A sexy wet dream, sure. A sexy wet dream about Mr Gold that culminated in her screaming his name as he made her come.

It’s going to be interesting facing him when he comes to collect the rent tomorrow.

X

Lacey’s writhing on top of him, moaning through her orgasm, and Gold wants nothing more than to bury his cock deep inside her sweet wet heat. Has he always been attracted to her? He can’t remember. He can vaguely remember this bed and this room and Lacey on top of him like this, but she was called Belle then, and Gold knows that somehow they’re one and the same person.

He doesn’t let it bother him. There are more important things to think about, like Lacey right here, right now, and his aching erection. He unzips and frees his cock, and Lacey takes him in hand, stroking up and down his length with delicate fingers and a finesse that seems far from her normal gung-ho personality.

Then she’s pushing her underwear out of the way and he’s lining them up and she’s sinking down onto him, and honestly, Gold might as well be in heaven. Maybe he’s lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but if he is, then this is definitely the best way to go. Lacey continues her steady rise and fall and his hips buck up to meet her, relishing every moment of their fierce and frantic union.

His orgasm comes up on him quickly and forcefully, and he yells her name as he spurts deep inside her.

“Lacey!”

Gold jolts awake, blinking in the darkness and taking a second to come back to himself. His pyjama trousers are wet and sticky with semen and he scrubs a hand over his face. It’s been a while since that happened, coming in his pants like a horny teenager, to a dream of Lacey French no less. He has to go and collect rent from her father later, and it’s going to be hard to look her in the eye after this.

He tries to put it to the back of his mind, but when he comes to Game of Thorns and sees Lacey leaning over the counter, tight top emphasising her bralessness, it all comes back in an embarrassing rush. The rent transaction is conducted without fuss, and Gold escapes back into the cool outside air.

His brow furrows. If he didn’t know better, then he’d say that Lacey was wearing the same awkward blush as he was. Was she thinking the same thing? Have they shared the same sensual dream? He makes his way back home, wondering if a similar situation will present itself tonight. Dreams are just memories of another life, after all…


End file.
